


Build an Ark

by acaelousqueadcentrum



Series: Sail Us to the Moon [2]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:11:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acaelousqueadcentrum/pseuds/acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two-by-two, they came.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They hadn’t expected twins.

(Who expected twins?)

And yet, there Holly was. Standing in their kitchen and trying to make sense of the phone call she’d just received, the dishes from lunch forgotten on the island as she stood in silent shock in the middle of the sun-lit room.

Twins.

Two babies.

Two new babies to join their precocious, rambunctious, adorable but already-exhausting toddler.

“Mama,” Remy called from the couch in the living room, “book!”

Holly forced herself back into the moment, forced the call to the back of her mind and wiped her hands on a towel before seeking out her daughter in the other room.

“Okay, monkey, what story have you picked out for us today,” she asked and joined the little girl on the couch, “oh, Ducklings, my favorite.”

Remy cuddled into her mother’s side, and held tight to her blanket, a soft baby quilt that Holly’s mom had made and brought just after the birth of her first, unexpected, granddaughter. She listened intently as Holly read, head beginning to nod sweetly as her mother’s familiar voice lulled her to sleep with the tale of Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Pack, Quack, and Ouack.

By the time the ducklings were all safe in their new home, Remy was asleep, her hot body tucked against Holly’s arm as she breathes heavily and freely in her sleep.

They sat like that for a moment, mother and daughter. There were chores to be done and calls to be made, but, Holly decided, all of that could wait for a while. The dishes would keep until later, her budget report wasn’t due until the end of the month, and Gail would be gone until dinner, at least. There was time to sit on the couch, to pull her baby girl into her arms and watch the simple promise of Remy breathing and dreaming and existing.

Once she’d sat on this same couch with her three-day-old daughter and marveled at how impossibly tiny a miracle could be. Small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, and somehow big enough to fill your entire future with reasons and hopes and dreams.

Where had the time gone, Holly wondered, how had so many seconds and minutes and hours slipped past without them noticing? How had the tiny baby they’d brought home from the hospital grown so much so quickly?

Three years and a million precious moments.

And still so many ahead. Joys and pains and everything that fell in-between.

So much more to come.

And in a second, Holly knew.

The answer was going to be yes.

It was always going to be yes.

Holly stood carefully, not wanting to disturb the sleeping world in her arms. Upstairs, she tucked Remy in-between the dinosaur sheets Gail had bought for their daughter’s big-girl bed. She dropped a kiss on the sweet-smelling forehead, and then lingered for a moment or two more before sighing and turning to the door.

In the hall, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit the first number on her speed dial, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor outside her daughter’s room.

“Hey, baby,” Holly half-whispered to Gail’s voicemail, “I just wanted to let you know, I got the call. We got the call. Twins–boys. Three weeks old, preemies born with addictions and heart complications. But strong, Margo says–fighters.”

She paused for a second, gathering all of her courage and all of her love.

And when she spoke again, it was without a waver, without a single doubt.

“And I know, it’s more than we thought. Two babies. Health problems. But I think we should do it, Gail, I think we should say yes.”

And then Holly ended the call and closed her eyes, images of the future ahead of them, so full of love, swimming behind her eyes.

She sat like for several minutes, drifting in the soft quiet between awake and dreaming, until the gentle voice of her partner broke into her meditations.

“My answer is always yes, Lunchbox,” Gail said from the top of the stairwell, pulling Holly back into the now.

“Margo called me too,” the blonde said with a smile, explaining her unexpected but never unwelcome presence.

She sat down on the floor next to Holly and reached for the older woman’s hand, tangling their fingers together.

“Yes,” the brunette asked in a whisper, a smile already tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Yes,” Gail repeated, and sealed her word with a kiss.

~

Two weeks later, frazzled and overwhelmed but completely in love, Gail and Holly welcomed two brand new worlds into their little home.

“Say hello to your brothers,” Gail whispered into their daughter’s ear, holding Remy up to see the boys in their crib, tucked into the corner of their mothers’ room.

“Hi, Justus,” Remy said with a sweet laugh as her mothers looked on, “hi, Victor.”

Holly sighed and smiled, the last little pieces of their life clicking into place.

It was messy and it was unexpected and it was perfect.

Perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey there, sexy,” Holly whispered quietly as she came up behind her partner and wrapped her arms around Gail’s waist, “whatcha doing?”

Gail lay her hands over the brunette’s. “Just watching the kids sleep,” she answered, and sunk into her love’s embrace.

Holly rested her chin on Gail’s strong shoulder and looked down at the bed before them, where their children were taking an afternoon nap. Remy, with her long limbs and her messy curls–less halo, more hurricane–strewn across the pillow. Justus in his carrier, dreaming of drinking, apparently, with his sweet lips pursed and moving against an imaginary bottle. And then Victor, their youngest by six minutes, his apnea belt dark against the mint green of his jumper, and its monitor just off to the side.

Three beautiful miracles, Holly thought, and a shiver of things that might not have been shuddered through her.  

But only for a moment.

Until it was beaten back by the scent of Gail’s bare skin against her own, the warmth of the afternoon summer sun from the open window across the room, the sound of friends and family laughing and talking together on the deck as they supervised the older children shrieking and playing in the lake beyond.

“This was a good idea,” she breathed softly into Gail’s neck, “to celebrate finalizing the adoption up here at the cabin, with everyone.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gail asked, “even after walking in on Traci and Steve in the kitchen this morning?”

The brunette smirked. “You know as well as I that they could have just as easily walked in on us if we’d been up first,” she answered with a laugh.

Gail acknowledged the truth of the point with a quiet laugh that echoed out of her own bones and into Holly’s.

“I mean it, though,” Holly repeated, “this is good. Celebrating such an important milestone with the people we love.”

She felt Gail’s body tense against hers, “Babe, what is it?”

“The doctor, when we took the boys on Tuesday, he mentioned that they’re a little behind on their developmental milestones, even accounting for being preemies. How Justus is a little ahead of Victor, and probably always will be, and whether they’ll be mostly on track at some point in the future.”

They’re swaying together, bodies used to the precious weight of sleeping children in their arms. It’s comforting, the slow rock back and forth, the gentle mother’s dance. It’s unconscious now, after so many nights spent rocking babies back to sleep, soothing cries and ills, walking the floors of their home with memory and the light of the moon to guide them.

Holly just hummed softly, well-attuned to her partner’s needs, Gail’s habit of slowly talking out what was bothering her.

“It’s just, I don’t want anyone to look at our kids and think they’re less than anyone else because they’ll probably be smaller and need glasses earlier and Vee will probably have an inhaler his whole life,” Gail continued, turning in her partner’s arms until she was looking straight into Holly’s sweet brown eyes, “Our kids are amazing–they’re going to grow up to be amazing– and I just think we measure the wrong things, with milestones, I mean.”

“Oh,” the brunette said, and began to massage at the muscles of Gail’s lower back, the ones that got sore at the end of a long day, having never quite fully recovered from being pregnant.

Gail’s breath caught, and she arched into Holly’s familiar, healing touch.

“And I don’t know, Hol, but it feels like we forget some things, some milestones. I mean, sitting, walking, talking, these are big deals, true. And learning to read, graduating from school, moving into your own place, all important milestones too. But,” she paused for a moment, and turned, spinning gently out of the brunette’s embrace until they were standing side-by-side, arms around each other’s waists, and looking down at their children.

“But there are simpler milestones too. Like how Vee’s alarm doesn’t go off on the nights when he and Jus are in the same crib. Or how Remy is so, so careful with them, and always wants to help out even though sometimes they’re smelly or loud. Some days I come home and the first thing I hear before I take off my boots is one of the kids giggling, or Remy shouting that I’m home, or even one of the boys crying because he needs to be changed. And that, Hol,” Gail said, “that feels like a milestone too. Or waking up next to you, even when there’s a kid between us. Or watching my mom read a bedtime story to Jus and V, not realizing that they’ve already fallen asleep.”

“I get it, hon,” Holly whispered, letting her hip bump gently into Gail’s, “there are the big milestones that we use to measure time and then there are the little ones, the ones we use to measure love. And they’re far, far more valuable than whether the boys can walk by their first birthday or Remy learns to read before her fifth. And while doctors and teachers and strangers may measure our kids by the big ones, you and I, and everyone who matters? We’ll be paying attention to all the little milestones, the ones that really count.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Sail to the Moon" by Radiohead


End file.
